The Enlightened Despot
by ProphetSeeker
Summary: A Slytherin Hermione who develops the ambition to match her intelligence. She sees the lack of logic in the wizarding world, and with her mentor Severus Snape she makes a plan to rule it. Starts in first-year but will go post-Hogwarts. GreyHermione.


Chapter 1

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

" _Slytherin!"_

The hat roared the last word to the entire hall. Hermione couldn't help the bit of disappointment that crept through her. She was really hoping to be in Gryffindor like Headmaster Dumbledore. She would probably be all right in Slytherin, though, she said to herself reassuringly.

When she took off the hat some of the Slytherin's were applauding, but most were looking confusedly at one another. Hermione made her way over to the table nervously. Nobody was sliding down on the bench to make room for her like they had at the other tables. Hermione felt like she had accidentally intruded on a private meeting she had no business at.

Embarrassed, she sat down at the edge of the table closest to the stage and looked back at the sorting. Daphne Greengrass became the next Slytherin and she received a much warmer reception. Most of the table applauded and a space was cleared for her next to Millicent Bulstrode, who had been sorted into Slytherin earlier. Hermione stared glumly at her plate.

When Draco Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin the table cheered. He walked over with an exaggerated swagger and took a place with two other first-years near the center of the table. Malfoy's bravado was short lived, however, by the appearance of a grisly looking ghost who took up position behind him. If she remembered correctly from _Hogwarts: A History_ his name was the Bloody Baron.

Hermione watched with sadness as Harry Potter was sorted into Gryffindor. He'd seemed like a very nice boy on the train and she would have liked to be in the same house as him. Nobody else she had met was sorted into Slytherin. Neville Longbottom and Ronald Weasley both became Gryffindors. She looked longingly over at the other table. It appeared far more cheerful.

Her mood improved slightly when Dumbledore announced the feast. She'd never seen so much food in her life and all of it was delicious. Still, few people talked to her and when they did it was barely more than a sentence. She tried to listen to snatches of conversation. She occasionally heard Harry Potter's name mentioned. Her fascination with him grew. She hoped she'd have a chance to talk to him again.

Now Hermione was feeling decidedly lonely. It was no different than regular school had been, except now she didn't know why she was alone.

"Are you a half-blood?" A soft voice spoke. Hermione whirled around to see the Bloody Baron floating behind her.

"H-half-blood?" She asked. She could hear the fear in her voice.

"Muggle-born then," the ghostly figure continued. "I thought as much. Most Slytherins make it their business to know which major families have children entering their first year and which are likely to be sorted here. You are the first muggle-born in Slytherin in decades."

"I-is that a good thing?" She questioned him again. Her eyes were as big as saucers.

The Bloody Baron inclined his head curiously.

"It is a hard thing. For you. Nevertheless, the Hat placed you in Slytherin for a reason, and if you are truly one of us you will surely find out what that reason is." Finished talking, the Bloody Baron floated back towards the center of the table. Hermione now felt lonelier than ever. Muggle was the wizarding term for non-magical, so muggle-born was probably the term for people without magical parents. Was that why nobody wanted to talk to her? Because her parents were muggles? It seemed that way according to the Baron.

Her focus was diverted from herself when Dumbledore got up to give announcements. Hermione listened intently. Don't go into the forest. No magic in the halls. Don't go into the third floor corridor on pain of death. The last one got her attention as it did seemingly the whole table. An outbreak of whispering followed Dumbledore's statement. Hermione filed all this information away in her memory.

Soon the prefects were escorting the first-years to the common room. Hermione did her best to memorize the route. The last thing she needed was to get lost. They came to a stone wall that looked much like the rest until the prefect tapped it with his wand and spoke a password ("Serpent-Tongue"). Much to Hermione's surprise, the wall slid back to reveal a passage into one of the most regal rooms she had ever seen.

The Slytherin common room was stark and elegant. Dim green light bathed the whole area and rich tapestries covered every wall. High-backed armchairs and couches were placed around the room just far enough apart to complete the room's noble atmosphere.

"Female dormitories are on the right," the prefect spoke. "Male are on the left. Before you retire for the evening, however, our Head-of-House would like a word with you."

Shortly after he had finished a hook-nosed man with greasy black hair swept into the room. His robes billowed theatrically behind him and his presence immediately silenced all other activity. When he spoke his voice was little more than a whisper, but Hermione hung on to every word.

"I am Professor Severus Snape, your Head-of-House. You have been given the rare honor of being selected for Slytherin House. We are the noblest of the houses, and the purest. As such, how you conduct yourselves outside this room is a reflection of your house and of me. The qualities of a true Slytherin are resourcefulness, ambition, and cunning. I expect you to exhibit all of these in both your academic work and your dealings with students from other houses." Professor Snape paused to glide his black eyes over every first-year.

"Make no mistake. As a Slytherin you are alone. You will find no comfort nor friendship in the other houses, only jealousy and mistrust. For this reason, any dispute you have with a student in Slytherin house must be handled within these walls. Beyond here, we are always united. Division is weakness and Slytherins do not show weakness. The rest of the school will not look out for you, but you will look out for your own. Any violation of this rule will be met with severe… displeasure. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir," Hermione chorused with the rest of her housemates. Many of them had especially solemn looks on their faces. Others had the same saucer-eyed look Hermione had had when she spoke to the Bloody Baron. Draco Malfoy, she noticed, had a subtle grin on his face.

Professor Snape nodded at them and left the room. The prefect directed them upstairs. There were four other first-year girls in Hermione's dormitory. She remembered most of their names from the sorting: Millicent Bulstrode was a larger girl with brown hair. Pansy Parkinson's hair was more wild and thatchy. She was the most talkative of the bunch, chatting with a third girl whose name Hermione couldn't remember. The last girl, Daphne Greengrass was a blond with sharp blue eyes that were staring right at her.

"What's your blood status?" The girl questioned in a cool voice that reminded her of Professor Snape. It took Hermione a moment to realize what the other girl was asking. For a second she considered lying and saying she had a magical parent, but somehow she knew the girl would know.

"I-I'm muggle-born," Hermione said in a very small voice. The reaction was instantaneous. Every head snapped around to stare at her. Millicent and the other girl had their mouths open in shock. Pansy was looking at her like she'd just found a dead mouse in her sheets, while Daphne's expression was unreadable.

"We have to share our dormitory with a _mudblood!?_ " Pansy exclaimed viciously. Hermione got the impression she'd just been called a very bad name as the other two girls turned their shocked expressions towards Pansy. Daphne remained silent, but turned to take the bed farthest away from Hermione. The other girls began fighting over who would have to sleep next to her. Finally, Tracy (Hermione had overheard her name) was forced to take the bed next to her.

It was about all Hermione could take. The day that was supposed to be the greatest of her life had become one of the worst. As quickly as she could she changed into her bedclothes and closed the hangings around her bed. At last, she could contain her emotions no longer and she cried herself to sleep as quietly as she could.

Hermione woke up early the next morning. She got dressed and left for breakfast before any of her dorm-mates woke up. She took her spot at the end of the bench while Professor Snape handed out timetables. He handed Hermione hers without so much as a glance and moved on. Hermione looked over it and noticed excitedly that she had Transfiguration today. Transfiguration was the subject she was most looking forward to, and it was taught by the very same witch who had given her her Hogwarts letter: Professor McGonagall.

Hermione made sure she arrived early to class so she could sit at one of the front tables. She was still a bit upset over last night, but she thought maybe if she could do well in class then her housemates would see she wasn't worthless. The rest of the class trickled in slowly.

Unsurprisingly, none of the Slytherins joined her. As they came in most of them immediately started whispering and pointing at her. Draco Malfoy even gave her an outright look of disgust when Pansy whispered something to him.

Everybody had just taken their seats when Professor McGonagall entered the room. She was a stern-faced no-nonsense witch whom everyone could tell not to cross. When she stepped into the classroom the whispering immediately fell silent.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," the professor began in a severe tone. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." Then, to everyone's shock, Professor McGonagall transfigured her desk into a pig and back again. Hermione heard herself give a little "oh" of surprise. Once the awe had settled in, Professor McGonagall continued in that same voice.

"Exciting though that display may have been, it will be quite a long time before any of you are ready for that level of magic. Before you even attempt the simplest of transfigurations, something of the theory must be grasped. Now, can anyone tell me the four classifications of Transfiguration?"

Hermione's hand shot up in the air as soon as the question was asked. She knew this one. It was one of the first things she'd read in _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration._

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, motioning for her to answer. Hermione responded eagerly.

"The four branches of Transfiguration are transformation, conjuration, vanishment, and untransfiguration."

"Correct," nodded Professor McGoonagall. Hermione smiled a little bit at the affirmation. Behind her, more whispering had broken out.

"That is enough of that," said Professor McGonagall crossly. "If you have something to say in my class you'd best raise your hand to say it."

Hermione found herself liking this professor more and more.

The class spent the next half hour taking notes on how Transfiguration worked before Professor McGonagall introduced them to their first piece of transformation. They'd be turning matchsticks into needles. After repeated attempts, Hermione had finally managed to make her matchstick go silver by the end of the lesson. When Professor McGonagall saw this she offered her a smile and gave ten points to Slytherin house. Hermione left the lesson in high spirits.

By the end of the day Hermione was feeling quite good about herself. She was called on for several questions and answered every one of them correctly, and she had earned her house 5 more points. Malfoy and Parkinson hadn't said anything nasty to her in the halls so she assumed her plan had worked. When she got back to the common room, however, her hopes were dashed.

Draco Malfoy and two very large other boys were waiting for her when she walked in. For a moment she wondered why they hadn't tried something earlier in the halls, but then she remembered Professor Snape's words about unity outside the common room. As she tried to go to her dormitory they blocked her way. By this time several of the other students had turned to watch the exchange.

"You don't belong here, _Mudblood,"_ Draco said the name with a hiss. "No matter how smart you are or how many points you get us you will _never_ be a Slytherin." A sneer was on Malfoy's face as he finished and his two friends were glaring at her.

Hermione could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again. She looked around and noticed Daphne Greengrass watching her with cold, indifferent eyes. Hermione knew she couldn't let them see her cry. She had to get out of there. Hermione turned away from the other Slytherins and bolted from the common room with as much dignity as she could manage. She hurried into the first bathroom she could find and locked herself in a stall. Then, finally, she let herself cry.

Once the tears had run their course Hermione did what she did best and started to think. In some ways this was no different than regular school. She'd never had any real friends because of her love of books. But at normal school everyone had pretty much let her alone. Sure there were a few nasty comments behind her back, but this was different. Her housemates, the people the professors had said were supposed to be closest to you at Hogwarts, automatically hated her because of who her parents were. It didn't make sense.

Not for the first time since the Hat put her in Slytherin, Hermione wondered why she had been sent here. The brave went to Gryffindor and the smart went to Ravenclaw. She didn't think she was especially Hufflepuff, but even that would probably have been a better fit than Slytherin. As the longing for another house took hold, another bout of tears threatened to overtake her.

" _No!"_ Hermione thought to herself forcefully. Whatever Draco Malfoy said, whether she liked it or not, she was a Slytherin. She was a Slytherin and that's that. And if she was going to be a Slytherin then she was going to be the best Slytherin there ever could be. That meant no more crying. Crying was weakness, and one thing she knew about Slytherins was that Slytherins never showed weakness.

 **AN/: Wow, 11-year-olds can be cruel. This was just an idea I had that wouldn't go away. I hope you all enjoy it. Let me know what you think.**

 **P.S. The contents of Snape's speech were inspired by another fanfic I read whose name I can't remember. If you're the author of that fic I offer you full credit for the original idea and hope you don't mind this humble computer typer borrowing it for a bit.**


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